Goodbye
by zorabet
Summary: Joanne was affected by AIDS long before she met anyone we're familiar with [OneShot, preRENT through postRENT, MoJo]


A/N: This is derived from my crazy idea that the Steve in 'We're Okay' is the same Steve from 'Life Support'. Also, pretend that this isn't Steve from the movie or the play, but my own creation. :D 

Disclaimer: If I owned RENT, would I be writing fanfiction? Property of the Jonathan Larson estate.

April 13, 1987 

Joanne Jefferson pushes past the double door of her office building and flies up the 6 flights of stairs until she reaches the tan doors of Jefferson & White. She opens the kitchen door and flies to the desk of her partner, Steve White. Before Joanne can even get to his desk, her body is impacted with another. "Honey, where are you in such a rush to get?"

Joanne takes a deep breath, "Oh, Steve, there you are. Listen to me, there was a big break on the Green case, Susan said-" she finds herself being pushed back towards the kitchen with more force she expected the small man to have.

Steve plants Joanne firmly next to the small refrigerator and shoves a large, red coffee cup into her hands, "Two sugars, no cream, just like you like it. Now, drink that, and we'll start over." Once Joanne has taken a long gulp and pulled the cup away from her lips, Steve smiles sweetly, "Now, good morning, Joanne."

"Good Morning, Steve." She rolls her eyes and takes another sip of coffee.

"What was it you wanted to tell me about the Green case? You seemed awful excited." He smirks and rubs his bald head back and forth.

Joanne nearly spits out her coffee, "Oh, god, yes. Susan said that she has hospital records that prove she suffered internal bleeding from the fall."

"Oh, that's so fantastic. I'm going to go work on that right now." Steve bounces out of the kitchen and practically leaps into his office. He pokes his head out of the door and calls, "Toodles!"

Joanne chuckles a little and takes another long sip of her coffee, "Goodbye, Steve."

XXX

October 4, 1987 

Joanne is sitting in her leather chair, reading over the files for her newest client. She signs a few papers on the designated line, and puts an 'X' where the prosecutor needs to sign. There is a soft tap at the door, and before she can invite the guest in, Steve is shuffling through the door. His hazel eyes are red and puffy, and it looks as if he's been crying, "Hey, Jo." He sniffles and helps himself to one of the chairs set in front of the desk.

"What's wrong?" She hands him a tissue and furrows her eyebrows.

"I think you need to find a new partner." He states bluntly, taking the tissue and wiping furiously at his eyes.

Joanne purses her lips, "Are you quitting?" she asks slowly, "Because if you want a raise, or some more cases-"

Steve cuts her off, "It's not that at all." He casts his glance downward, "I'm dying, Jo." Her hand flies to her mouth and she finds herself unable to speak. Before she can articulate the question, the answer is provided for her, "Acquired Immune Deficiency Syndrome. Asymptomodic Acquired Immune Deficiency Syndrome."

Joanne takes a shaky breath and folds her hands on the desk, "That doesn't mean you have to leave. You can take a few months off to sort things out. We can train Randall to take your place when you want to leave. And when you do leave, we'll give you medical pay."

He chuckles nervously and throws his hands up in defeat, "Okay, I'll stay. But I'm taking those months off. And I'm only staying for a year, if that long. Just until I close that huge case."

Joanne tries to suppress a grin and nods understandingly, "Okay. Yeah, that's great."

The two stand up simultaneously and pull each other into a friendly hug. Joanne quickly pulls away and begins rummaging through a drawer. "Aha, here it is." She places a small card in his hand forcefully, "This is a great new support group in the village; Life Support." He mutters thanks and waves on his way out the door.

Joanne waves back, "Goodbye, Steve."

XXX

July 6, 1989 

Joanne sits down at her desk, and starts sorting through the pile of papers that's inevitably waiting for her; three settlements to sign, two court dates to confirm, a new client's information, and a letter of resignment. When she gets to the last one, she immediately buzzes for Steve to come in. He enters looks much like a toddler being accused of eating cookies before dinner. He smirks, "Hey, honey, what is it that you need?"

She waves the paper swiftly in front of his face, "Care to explain this?"

"Jo, I told you a year, it's been nearly two. I kept up my part of the deal; it's your turn. And stop biting your lip, it's not becoming." He chuckles a little, then leans over the desk to take her hands, "It was great working with you, really, but Randall will do a fine job taking my place." Before she can say anything, he's up and nearly out the door, "I've already told Randall, and my stuff is packed up. I'm passing the George case to you, the rest, he gets. Bye, honey."

"Goodbye, Steve."

XXX

January 2, 1993 

Joanne walks towards the Alphabet City Community Center, her arms wrapped around an anguished Maureen. They turn through the second door to the left, just as Mark has directed them to. Neither of them has ever been to a meeting before, Joanne preferring to grieve silently, and Maureen not one to share her feelings with strangers. In fact, neither of them wants to be there today. But, the group has to be informed of Roger's condition –or lack thereof, and Mark is too torn up to do it himself. They step through the doors and Joanne glances around the circle; a man she recognizes to be Paul, a young woman holding two small children on her lap, two middle-aged men holding hands, an African-American woman in a business suit, a teenaged couple, both adorned with numerous tattoos and piercings, and a man in business suit who looks all too familiar.

"Pookie, can we get this over with? I hate it here. I can't be here." Maureen pleads quietly, gripping Joanne's arm quite painfully. Joanne sighs sympathetically and kisses Maureen's cheek gingerly. She knows it's horrible, but she almost like this reserved side of Maureen. She pries herself free of the brunette's death grip, and she immediately attaches herself to the doorframe. Joanne gives Maureen's shoulder a comforting squeeze and takes a few steps forward.

Yes, it's definitely Steve. He appears to have aged 15 years, and his eyes have lost their fire, but it's definitely Steve. Paul stops in the middle of his sentence and looks up to Joanne, "And you are?"

"Oh- I'm not- I'm just here to- I don't have- Joanne, I'm Joanne." She stutters.

"Honey, I thought that was you!" Steve bounces out of his chair and attaches himself to Joanne. He quickly pulls away and examines her, "Oh, you look great. How's the firm? Is that Maureen? Did you come to see little old me?" he's throwing questions at her left and right.

"The firm is great. Yes, that's Maureen. And, no, actually," she's suddenly solemn, "I have some bad news; Roger Davis, a group member, collapsed on the subway last Thursday. He passed away last night"

A painful silence falls over the room, interrupted only occasionally by a loud sniffle from Maureen, still in the doorway. The young mother is the first to speak, "Oh God, not Roger, anyone but Roger," is all she says. Steve sits back down and the group instinctively joins hands and bows their heads silently. Joanne casts a glance back to Maureen, and she too has her head silently hung. The lawyer follows suit and wedges her hand between Steve and Paul's. She suddenly feels a rough hand she recognizes as Maureen's in hers and she squeezes gently.

A moment passes, and everyone has looked up, tears running down most of their cheeks. Joanne stands up and wraps her arm around Maureen, "We really should get back to Mark and Collins, Honeybear." The group waves timidly, and Paul sends his condolences to Mark and thanks Joanne for the information. Maureen sniffles and waves hastily, practically pulling Joanne out the door.

Joanne glances once more over the group, and gives Steve an awkward sort of embrace from her standing position to his sitting, "Goodbye, Steve."

XXX

December 31, 1995 

Joanne adjusts her suspenders and taps her foot impatiently, "Maureen, are you coming?" she calls into the bathroom.

"Yeah, yeah, I'm ready." Maureen's shrill voice comes closer, and the woman does a small twirl, "What do you think?"

"I think you look the same as you have every New Years since I've known you." Joanne responds sharply. Maureen is dolled up in her old vinyl cat suit. There are a few lines around her eyes, and her hair has lost it's volume, but she definitely looks like the Maureen that Joanne has seen every New Years for 5 years. That foreign version of Maureen that Joanne discovered after Roger passed hasn't gone away. She still thrives on attention and throws fits over the tiniest things, and she still holds those damn protests. Only now, those protests aren't meaningless riots used only to hurt Benny. Now, those protests are held every Christmas Eve, and they're cold, hard facts about AIDS. They're more of memorials than protests. Now, Maureen has stopped flirting and realized that life is too precious to waste begging for attention.

Joanne is startled out of her thoughts by Maureen's sharp voice, "Did you call Marky yet?" she begins holding an array of outfits in front of Joanne.

Joanne slaps her rough hand away, "I told you, I'm not dressing up. And, yes, I called Mark." She runs a hand gingerly over Maureen's hair, "You know he's not coming, right? He never does."

Maureen pulls away and pouts her glossy lip, "I know, Pookie, I just wish he would get out of the loft. New Years is important to me."

"Yeah, I know. Let's just get-" Joanne is cut off by the ringing of the phone.

Maureen cheerfully declares that she'll answer, probably hoping falsely that it's Mark. "Hello, Johnson-Jefferson residence. Former speaking." She chirps into the receiver. The smile fades off her lips and she nods as if the person on the other end can see her, finally, she concludes, "Okay, sure, we'll be down as soon as we can. Bye." She hangs up and scurries over to Joanne, trying not to lose it, "Pookie, pookie, now, don't freak out, that was Paul. Steve is in the hospital. He collapsed at the meeting. Said to get down there right away."

Joanne takes a shaky breath and grabs for her purse. The one fucking meeting they don't go to. They've been going to the meeting religiously since Collins died, they miss just one, and Steve gets sick. Wordlessly, she grabs Maureen's hand in her own and pulls her into the car.

In what seems like record time, the pair arrives at the hospital, receive their visitor passes, and find themselves in front of Steve's door. Maureen begins chipping at her nail polish, an old nervous habit, and for a second, Joanne feels guilty for making Maureen come here. Then, her attention snaps back to the door. The only thing blocking her from Steve. _Funny, _she muses to herself, _me and him aren't nearly as close as I was to Collins or Roger, we only see each other at meetings, and I'm more worried about him then I was then._ She snaps out of her thoughts and looks back to Maureen, her face adorned with the same pained look she gets every time someone mentions Roger or Collins. Joanne grasps Maureen's hands and steps through the doors.

A bedside vigil of sorts has formed; Paul is holding the two small children, who Joanne have come to know as Zoe and Ian, their mother, Ali, is standing next to the bed, holding Steve's hand, Rob stands alone, his partner Carter having died a few years back, and Stefan and Roxie stand off to the side, holding hands, and Joanne can't help but notice the lesion forming under Roxie's belly button ring.

She quietly asks Rob how Steve is, and is replied to only with a solemn shake of the head and a sigh. Joanne turns around to talk to Maureen, but finds that the woman has already helped herself to one of the uncomfortable chairs the hospital provides for visitors. Maureen yanks the cat ears off of her head, and in a desperate plea for attention, hurls them across the room. Joanne just rubs her back tenderly, really hoping to avoid a scene.

Before Maureen has the chance to say anything, there's a loud moan from the bed, and Steve tries to sit upright, but Ali gently pushes him back down onto the pillows, "Just sit there and relax, I'll call the nurse." She reaches over to push the call button, and then takes Zoe out of Paul's arms.

"Where am I? What happened?" Steve asks quietly, then breaks out into a fit of coughs that wrack his whole body. Ali nuzzles Zoe into her neck and brings water to Steve's lips.

"Shhh, you collapsed at the meeting, you'll be fine." Ali coos.

A nurse walks into the room, glancing hastily over the clipboard affixed to the door. She pushes past the crowd of people, and scans her eyes over a few machines, "Okay, Mr. White, I'm Nurse Williams and I'll be caring for you. Is there someone I can have a word with outside?" The group shares a conversation with their eyes, and Rob is elected to go outside. He follows the nurse through the door, leaving the rest of the group to sit in a painful silence with a sleeping Steve.

The pair returns a minute later, Rob appearing to have aged 10 years and the nurse shaking her head silently. Rob returns to his position next to Joanne, "It doesn't look good." He whispers in her ear, squeezing her shoulder gently. All pairs of eyes in the room go to her, looking for answers. All she can do is shake her head solemnly.

Ali and Paul settle the kids, who don't understand, but seem unnerved anyway. Roxie cries into Stefan's shoulder, her shoulders convulsing rapidly. Maureen, surprisingly, is the quiet one; her knees are pulled up to her chest, and her face buried in them, but she doesn't seem to be crying. Rob and Joanne just stand in their positions, not moving or speaking. Steve's eyes flutter open, and the group tries to compose themselves. For some reason unbeknownst to even herself, Maureen materializes by his side, running a hand over his head softly. "Why are you in a cat suit?" he chokes.

Maureen laughs softly, "I was going to go out for New Years. It's kind of a tradition of mine to dress up. Don't you worry about that, baby."

"Sorry you cou-" He begins softly, before breaking out into another horrendous coughing fit. Only, this time, there's blood spewing out. Roxie starts crying again, but Joanne can't be sure if it's because of Steve's imminent demise, or her own. Something clicks in Joanne's mind and she pulls Maureen out of the chair until the two of them are as far away from the bed as possible.

Nurse Williams dashes into the room, she has a needle in her hand. She tries to steady Steve enough to administer whatever kind of medication it is, but the coughs are making him convulse too much for that to be possible. The monitor attached to his chest begins beeping rapidly, and Nurse Williams tries unsuccessfully to pin his arm down.

Maureen lets herself fall into Joanne's arms, while everyone else is perfectly still. Minus the kids, who have been set in the chair, coloring book in hand. Nurse Williams steps away, "I'm afraid there's nothing I can do." She says. The heart monitor flat lines, and Steve falls back against the pillows. Roxie runs out of the room, shaking her head rapidly, and Stefan mutters apologies, dashing out after her. "I'll give you all a minute." Nurse Williams says, then leaves.

Joanne, Maureen, Rob, Paul, and Ali gather around the bed. Ali says something about bedtimes, kisses everyone's cheek, picks up the kids, and leaves. Rob sets about making phone calls to the little of Steve's known family, and Paul runs out to close up the community center.

"Pookie," Maureen whispers, silent tears streaming down her cheeks, "Can we go see Mark?" Joanne looks at her slightly quizzically, "I know he barely knew Steve and all, but I'd feel better with him, especially on New Years." She pouts her ruby lips.

Joanne sighs heavily, "Okay, just, just hold on a minute." She whispers to Rob, and he nods. The lawyer stands next to the lifeless body on the hospital bed, and plays with the hem of the sheets. For the first time that night, she allows herself to cry. Not

shoulder-heaving sobs, just small sniffles and a trail of tears down her cheeks, but it's something. She looks up, and Maureen is standing in the doorway. Joanne stands on shaky knees, not letting go of Steve's hand, which had somehow made it's way into her's. She leans down to kiss his cold forehead, "Goodbye, Steve."


End file.
